Throne of Violence
by CaseyBlackwrites
Summary: A mature look at the relationship between Vegeta and Bulma in an exciting spin-off tale fit for a feature film. Exploring the relationship between Trunks Briefs and his parents, his commitment to his time patrol duties, and his commitment to starting his own life. Trunks finds himself in an impossible situation where he cannot help his parents in the past and must watch from afar.


Throne of Violence by Casey Black

The kite-like tail of the Time Phoenix, Toki Toki, rustled and swayed as the creature moved through air currents and wind streams. Shimmering water cascaded in a free-falling descent over the ornate decor of a large fountain. Toki Toki City was a central hub, a connection of all worlds and the times of those worlds. It was as beautiful as it was strange, with lush luminous grass that was home to indigenous Namekian amphibian. It was in this unusual bustling center, that was also home to a detailed bazaar which featured items throughout seperate times, that a unique fellowship organized to correct any disturbances. Time Patrollers, an elite group lead by a powerful mystic deity known as the Supreme Kai of Time. A small being with immense ability, tasked with correcting timelines within multiverses. While scholars and scientists central to Earth struggled to prove if time travel was possible or if the multiverse theory was feasible, there was another fully tangible world where future, the past, and present for every conceivably possible world converged into one point. Similar to the fiery star, the Sun, being the center of the Milky-way Galaxy it was this way for Toki-Toki City. Here, time stopped and began. Eternally stretching in all directions, it was foreseeable that someone or something would look to take advantage of such a powerful concept. A young man with hair that matched the beautiful violet leaned his wide back against the base of the water fountain. The soft trickling of cool clear water made his eyes feel heavy, the lids gradually covering a set of fierce and weathered eyes. The violet hair was long and thin, embodying much volume as he tied it sloppily back behind him. Having been some time since he last cut it, the purple locks rustled and swayed in the wind over his tawny complexion. Living in Toki-Toki City was one of the hardest things he had ever had to endure. That was saying a lot for a young man who never knew his father, watched his mother disintegrate before his eyes, held the cold body of his best friend and mentor, and lived in the rubble of a bygone world. Trunks Briefs was a survivor, and that was what made him strong, resilient, and above all else, dangerous. When cybernetic humanoids, killer Androids, besieged his time and obliterated the population into nothing but a scorched wasteland, he was the hero of his time. Not because of choice, but because his mother asked him to be. If you were to weigh everything that formed his identity, Trunks Briefs was a dutiful son above all else. Second to none, in this respect. It was for his very reason that his genius mother, Bulma Briefs, broke through every gender limitation, technological limitation, and personal fortitude limitation to invent the most startling discovery of that Age: time travel. Bulma transcended every possible barrier enslaving her and her son to create a glimmer of hope in the smoldering apocalypse. The key to the future was in the past, and Trunks Briefs would be the first earthling to travel through time and multiverse. This fateful decision lead to his current service in the Time Patrol. Unbeknownst to him and his mother, time travel was a serious offense to the Gods and Goddesses that controlled the universe and its natural wonders. Quiet and stoic mostly, Trunks Briefs was the hero of his age but now he was the leader of a special group of time enforcement warriors. Reluctantly, he had become the hero of all their bodies and minds into sharp instruments of justice. The Time Patrollers sought out discrepancies and indiscretions throughout the time spectrum, halting any interference. Some attempted personal gain, while others lusted for revenge. Trunks Briefs had single-handedly slain Galactic Emperors, powerful enough to destroy an entire planet, along with the killer mechanical madmen that ravaged his home and childhood. He was infamous for carrying a broadsword with him into battle, and that blade was stained with the blood of Gods and demons alike. The drooping eyelids felt ever heavy as the brilliant gleaming star above him blanketed his muscular physique, mostly exposed with a black tank top and pants featuring enough damage to reveal a rippling quadricep. Loosely, the calloused fingers of his right fist ever so gently released their hold on a simple photograph. With frayed edges and a solid crease in the center, the grainy image showed two women. one was the haggard but overjoyed facade of his mother, donning grease stained overalls and an impact wrench. Along side the brilliant scientist was a seemingly young lady, black hair mostly covered with an olive drab skull cap. A shy smile painted across a fair complexion was the only sign of compassion as the girl held an assault rifle and covered herself in a military parka, green in shade.

"Trunks, something terrible has happened," said a voice standing on a narrow wooden bridge across from the fountain. The young warrior opened his eyes, his left hand instinctively clutching the handle to his sword. The small creature across from him was a Kai, a powerful deity that watched over mortals and helped regulate their existence.

"Supreme Kai of Time, what is the target?" he asked gravely.

CHAPTER TWO  
The heiress to the world famous Capsule Corporation, double Masters degrees in theoretical calculations and business management, and a doctorate in engineering made Bulma Briefs a prodigy the likes of which the modern world had never seen before. A true fashionista with long wavy turquoise hair, with amazing styling and color, made her irresistible to men, and her spitfire attitude propelled her to feminist icon the world over. Magazines vied for just a glimpse of the reclusive Ms. Briefs, her vibrant smile and eyes caused newspapers to fly off shelves. These facts alone made her the most desirable bachelorette in modern society. Rich, super genius, and hot as hell made Bulma Briefs the talk of the town. It was for that reason that most people found it strange that Ms. Briefs did not frequent the same aristocratic circles that other luminaries ran in. Instead, she had an on and off again relationship with a professional baseball player, and spent her free time (which wasn't considerable) searching for mystical trinkets like an adventuring archeologist. She embodied all the spirit of the modern woman and a sense of wonder for the natural world that pushed her work in technology farther and farther. Unfortunately, Bulma Briefs possessed two considerable downsides: Explosive rage which could come at any time, and an undeniable level of boy-craziness since she was just a girl. These qualities were the driving force in her tumultuous relationship with Yamcha, a brazen thief turned professional martial artist turned professional baseball player. Yamcha had been a complete dreamboat through their teenage years, growing up and traveling the world over with their eclectic group of friends had made their bond forged beyond anything she had ever read about in her mother's romance books growing up. However, the handsome thief who sported a few missing teeth (knocked loose in a tussle) became more and more the womanizer as his fame and pockets grew. For her, Bulma found the constant whining and philandering of Yamcha to be insufferable despite how much she enjoyed being with him. While his heart may have been her most prized possession, his most treasured possession dangled between his legs and that was what caused the blue-haired minx to hurl her cordless phone against the wall that afternoon. Seething with rage, her burning stare watched the telephone explode into pieces before falling in a pile of debris to the floor. _That idiot! How could he not think I would see him on television with that bimbo Maron! Clearly he forgot that the two had met, because the tramp was not going to pass for his sister like he had claimed_. She was done with Yamcha. Her soul was done with Yamcha. Her heart was done with Yamcha. _How could he do this to her yet again? He had promised_. She sighed softly walking to the window of her bedroom, a teddy bear with a top hat lay on her small single bed. That oaf had given it to her ten years ago, and she slept with it every night as a reminder of the first night they shared together. Bulma found herself wondering what in her laboratory could destroy it in the most fulfilling way. _I think some kind of plasma weapon_ , she thought to herself before feeling her eyes begin to water. He wasn't worth the trouble but her body couldn't listen to reason, her heart couldn't be rational, so she let the tears come. A heavy sigh exhaled almost directly from her broken heart as hot tears rolled down her cheeks, no doubt smudging her makeup. Ruining her eyeliner might have been the worst offense Yamcha committed, she told herself with a slight laugh. Pushing open the window to her bedroom, it's soft mustard painted walls reflected the brightness from outside. She hoped in a way, her heart could do the same as she breathed in a deep gust of West City air, and the following breeze rustled her blue locks ever so slightly. It felt nice, she thought before sitting on a small trunk beneath the window sill. An embroidered pillow featuring the Capsule Corp. Logo on the tag served as her seat. She loved being near the ocean. She felt a kinship with the great adventures and minds before her time that saw the ocean as the greatest challenge of mankind. What was once an insurmountable task to navigate from continent to continent gave way to her crowning achievement: space travel. In an effort to save the world (a term so overused in her life that it seemed average by this point), Bulma Briefs joined the proud lineage of women to venture into the great celestial unknown. However, she became the first woman to leave the Earth's solar system. This was in part due to the need to travel to a faraway planet to restore Earth's most mystical and incredible natural power: the seven dragon balls. Large enough to fill your palm with a yellow glass-like finish and a red star, these amazing orbs granted whoever collected all seven a single wish. Almost anything that one's mind could develop could be theirs if they were lucky enough to search the globe successfully. It was that fateful voyage into space that would change Bulma life forever, including in ways that she did not yet understand. Looking down into the courtyard, she found the irritating source of grunts and yelps that had disturbed the grieving process for her dead romance. The two-legged and muscled tawny humanoid-alien down below returned to Earth with Bulma and her friends. It's personal story was an incredible one, as the alien warrior had originally traveled to Earth to seize the DragonBalls by force and wipe out humanity if need be. If it had not been for the combined efforts of her longtime friends, and her former boyfriend, the smug space warrior would have gotten away with it too. _Nope, they kicked Vegeta's butt good_. Speaking of which, the toned warrior hurled a series of thrusting leg kicks into the air. He wore a pair of black athletic shorts and cross-trainers. With hair the same color of his shorts, tall and coarse, Vegeta was undoubtedly a hunk. Funny enough, the powerful warrior was actually maybe two full inches shorter than she was. You wouldn't notice it though, as he exuded a supreme sense of confidence that made him seem like he was seven feet tall. One's gaze always locked on his fierce and angry eyes, accentuated by thick and powerful eyebrows. They were shapely and long, considerably overhanging past his eyes which lead to him looking very exotic. While he appeared human and terrestrial to Earth, he hailed from a destroyed planet also called Vegeta after his family name. She had found out in one of possibly three casual conversations over the last year that Vegeta was a family name, and that it dated back generations. The proud Vegeta belonged to a now mostly extinct race of warriors called Saiyans. Incredibly enough, he was even a royal prince to these people. His father, the late King Vegeta, was a military ruler and leader. Bulma had been _lucky_ enough to glean that amount of information over two passing conversations with Vegeta. If anything, she found him to be personally insufferable. _How could you live at someone's house and not even pay them any mind?_ Homeboy was certainly rude, she concluded. Maybe it was just his princely demeanor though? Vegeta was living on an alien world after all, his own planet and race destroyed. Certainly he felt something for all the lives that were lost? One thing was certain, that he cared about warfare. Day and night he worked relentlessly on his punches, and his kicks, and miraculous beams made of energy. He was as powerful as he was standoffish, but perhaps there was a reasoning to his madness. Before she knew it, her tears had faded and her makeup dried. While her heart still carried enough sadness to weigh it down into her gut, she sat by her window and enjoyed the breeze. Watching Vegeta was therapeutic in a way. He was consistent. He persevered despite having no home, no people, no family. If he could do it, so could she. Gazing down at him in the courtyard with rustling leaves clinging to the wind, she watched his commitment. The flexing of a powerful abdominal core gave way to a knee strike, the result was a tightening of abdomen muscles that were as thick and large as her fist. He glistened under the hot sun, his tall black hair waving slightly in that gentle breeze. Unusual for him though, the sharp and tall cheekbones of his face were covered in black beard. Perhaps his commitment had gotten the best of him lately. Perhaps the royal warrior was as lonely inside as she was. The way he constantly hungered for a level of physical perfection was not too different than her own ambition for understanding and developing new forms of science. Vegeta had come to live at Capsule Corporation's facility because he was a person without a place of belonging. Despite being violent, as she had heard the stories of his brutality, she saw him sit in the grass and observe nature on his breaks from practice. A curious idea entered her mind. Leaving her room in a hustle, without even bothering to close the door, Bulma made her way through the bustling halls of the main building. There were laboratory assistants and interns clutching clipboards or files as she pushed past a few that attempted to ask her a question. Despite always looking flawless, in her opinion, she wished she had worn something else that day. Something that would have naturally boosted her confidence after the blow that Yamcha infidelity had caused. However, she felt comfortable in the pale jeans with high top sneakers, and purple hooded sweatshirt that displayed her name. The moving sidewalk inside the building took her past her father's workplace, a West City reporter inside seemed to be taking photos of a new product that was expected to be debuted at the end of the third quarter. Dr. Briefs, her brilliant and mustachioed father, was an animal lover and tinkerer by trade. A great scientist and gentle soul, although slightly aloof, was the reason that Capsule Corporation was the largest and most advanced technology manufacturer in the world. Realizing she had become lost in thought, Ms. Briefs turned her attention to the large and frameless automated doors ahead of her. Stepping off the moving sidewalk and straightening her hoodie out, she walked through the sliding doors. The thick panes of glass predicted her movement and separated to reveal Vegeta in the courtyard still. He had actually picked up a towel and a water bottle and was making his way towards her. _Perfect timing_. She waved slightly, realizing that her makeup may still be smudged from earlier.

"Vegeta, I wanted to ask you a question," she offered in her most pleasant tone.

"Not now," was his reply.

"It would only take a second," she asserted herself as he walked past her. Staring straight forward through the doors, Vegeta's attention did not waiver. With a body-fat percentage that had to be below 5%, the Saiyan Prince resembled a Greek marble statue. Expansive real estate was how she would describe his posterior. A back broad and wide, defined all the way down to a trim waist that gave him the look of a bulky gymnast. As the proud man passed her, Bulma could smell the results of his training. Frankly, he could use a shower.

"Not now woman, I told you once already. I have to shit, " were the cold words from the stern prince that left Bulma simply blinking in astonishment as the sliding automated doors leading into the Capsule Corporation facility opened on command. She watched the thin black fabric of his shorts sway back and forth over Vegeta's powerful lower half before he disappeared inside.

Chapter Three  
The thin laminated plastic of her identification badge cut the air with a shrill whistle as Bulma Briefs hurled the badge and attached lanyard across the room as she entered her private laboratory. The blue lanyard disappeared from view as the mighty toss caused it to overshoot her original target, which was her metallic drafting table. Internship-level employees all the way to near retirees of Capsule Corp had made mad dashes to avoid her rampaging charge to her study. Not unlike Son Goku splitting the ocean with a kamehameha blast, Bulma's rage was equally devastating.

"I cannot believe the nerve of that guy! What a disgusting pig," she muttered to herself in exasperation before flopping into her swiveling office chair and instantly massaging her temples. _Why are men so openly gross and rude_ , she pondered before opening her laptop computer. The username log-in screen blinking readily for input as Ms. Briefs blankly stared at the screen. Shallow breaths were all she could manage between the emotional highs of Yamcha, and the devastating lows of the cold Saiyan prince. The password for her official company log-in to access the Capsule Corp intranet was "Puar". The name caused her breathing to hasten pace, as Puar was the constant companion and feline friend to her former beau. This day simply was not panning out in any way, shape, or form for her. The seething rage had begun to subside as her memories now filled with wonderful times with Yamcha and Puar. The beautiful experiences that the three had shared with Turtle Hermit on his island home, or attending baseball games to root on the home team. Those memories seemed so distant, as if they were figments of her imagination. The only recollections that seemed true to her now where Yamcha sniffing around any tramp that wanted to pay him attention. With a solid breath, coming in through her nose and out through her mouth in a final puff, she felt her nerves begin to relax. Although she could have entered her credentials before, Bulma had simply not been ready to process that information. The overwhelming need to reflect on this failed relationship was important to her, and she could not move past it until it made sense in her mind. Bulma Briefs was a resilient woman. While she enjoyed traveling alone, she found her greatest courage, strength, and ingenuity in the arms of her friends. Now that circle of friendship was fractured with a Yamcha sized hole. The _blips_ and _bloops_ of her laptop accessing her personal settings and last saved works cast a blue shade of light over her in the dim room. She had not bothered to turn on the primary lights while barging in, and instead preferred to pout in the dark. However, she preferred to think of "pouting" as "researching in isolation". Bulma's latest project was a modification to the product that had put Capsule Corp on the map. Her father had invented the initial device, and together the two genius Briefs had finalized it. While only a young girl then, Bulma served as her father's primary scientific assistant in the creation of the DynaCapsule. In layman's terms, it was the ability to shrink an item and capture it inside a miniature capsule. You were then able to transport a huge item, be it a car or plane, on a tiny device and deploy the said item when it was needed. A marvel of technology that affected the physical make-up up an item, and altered its molecular state. Capsule Corp went from a small independent research firm to the leader in shipping and exporting globally. Now Bulma, a grown woman, wanted to push her father's research even further. It was possible to transport anything inside a capsule, even food. However, items that were perishable could not maintain a perfect state for more than a few days. The lady genius looked to change that with the ability to store food indefinitely inside a DynaCapsule. _That type of technology could end world hunger_ , she thought to herself. However, all previous trials with her experiments had been disastrous failures. Even so much so that they were less stable than the already existing DynaCapsules! If Bulma could find a way to store food that would never spoil inside a capsule, you could easily take that capsule anywhere in the world without fear of the food spoiling. Someone could stockpile vegetables from their home garden for years and use the DynaCapsules as a means to survive in a disaster. The military would have incredible uses for the innovation. That was if she was able to actually develop a working model. The math seemed to be accurate, but she had never encountered a situation like this. Glancing at the calendar on the wall, she had been working consistently on this project for the last six months and not made any progress in the last nine weeks.

"I'm never going to figure this out," she grunted in frustration before leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes.

"Well, that's stupid," a voice commented before a loud harsh laugh that seemed to emanate from deep within the chest filled the room. The office chair snapped forward into attention as Bulma reached her fingers forward to her desk lamp. The nails were finely manicured in a light shade of blue that mimicked her hair, the agile fingertips spinning the lamp towards the door. There he was. Leaning with his incredibly developed arms crossed over his bare chest, Vegeta's laugh continued with his head tilted backwards and eyes closed. At first, the reaction was gradual. It started with Bulma's right eye fluttering and blinking. Then, her head dipping to her right shoulder as she fought the nervous tick. As Vegeta's howling slowly trailed off, those well-done blue nails were close to becoming red as they dug into her soft palms from the incredibly hard fists she was creating.

"Did you just call me _stupid_ , Vegeta?" she asked softly, her voice was almost a snake's hiss.

"No, although most people are compared to me," the simple retort did nothing to quell the building anger inside the young scientist. The office chair wheeled backward as she stood abruptly. She watched one-half of Vegeta's patented scowl turn upwards.

"Then would you like to explain why you just called me that?" Her question was more of a demand, as she moved around her desk. Instinctively, Bulma found herself rolling up the sleeves to her hooded sweatshirt.

"What you said. It was stupid."

"Excuse me?" her reply was slowly increasing the volume and bass in her voice.

"You mean to tell me that the woman that reversed engineered advanced intergalatic Saiyan technology, and learned to fly a Namekian spaceship is stumped by some…whats-it," he motioned loosely with his calloused hand to her workstation. The strangest sensation began to come over her as she realized his intention. Strange and extremely abrasive as it may have been, she believed the Saiyan had meant for his comment to be motivating. Perhaps the strangest part was that she, in fact, did find it to be as such.

"I guess sometimes the true greats all struggle," Bulma added, her voice adding a slightly inflection of facetiousness, although she did truly consider herself to be great. Vegeta chuckled softly as they both stood in the dark room, sharing the sort of laugh that was mostly a soft murmur. It was in this moment, the strange inspiration that the alien warrior had given to Bulma, she found herself finally forgetting about the collapse of her relationship with Yamcha, or the constant failures with the new DynaCapsules. She realized, as her fists gradually unraveled, that Vegeta was actually standing in her workplace.

"Did you come here for something?" The previously rage induced shake of her voice was now replaced with a slight wavering of uncertainty. The high top sneakers she wore took a half step forward that was met by Vegeta taking two full steps. As he stepped into the light, she saw him closer than she had ever before. It was already apparent that he was physically developed beyond belief, and that his eyes were almost in a constant squint. What she noticed for the first time was the scar tissue that wrapped itself around a shoulder, his mid-section, and under his left breast.

"You asked me," was the short reply given, but the words seemed to linger in the still air between them. She was afraid of this man. He wasn't like Son Goku that cherished life, or Piccolo who seemed to enjoy power but had grown to not enjoy exacting it on others. No, Saiyan Prince Vegeta was warrior nobility that enjoyed taking the lives of others. Perhaps, he was the best in the galaxy at it. Like a sudden cold mist, she realized that it was her turn to respond.

"Oh, of course. Why else would you be here? I just thought that you might like to join me for dinner tonight. I saw you practicing your fighting outside and thought you might like some company. You and I," Bulma cleared her throat to end the awkwardness of her disjointed words. Studying him carefully, Vegeta pursed his lips while his eyes trailed to the side. With his arms still crossed over his chest, the striations in the dense muscle moved as he thought.

"I dine at approximately 1830 hours. If you want to join me, you may."

CHAPTER FOUR

A humid haze continued to hang in Toki-Toki City as Trunks Briefs reclined himself against the steps of the Time Vault. Vast and impressive, the most important structure in the world that the Supreme Kai of Time commanded was a storage bank for time itself. One incredible specialty of Time-Sama, as he sometimes referred to her, was the incredible ability to condense pivotal moments in history down to a magical scroll. There it would be preserved and safe from any Time Crimes, or time distortions. Tilting his head to the side, the fine purple hair moved out of his eyesight. Before him on the grassy lawn of the Time Vault were his most crucial helpers. Time Elite, is what they called themselves. It all began with the Supreme Kai of Time tasking Trunks to find the most battle-hardened and skilled of the standard Time Patrollers and assemble a crack team of specialists that would be on standby to intervene on behalf of Time-Sama if timeline distortions were to prove disastrous. This was especially important because if a timeline were to be severely impacted, the distortion could cause a full collapse of the timeline. So far, that had not occurred on the watch of Trunks Briefs. One finger after another wrapped itself around the red sheath of his sword. Making fist after fist as he watched the twelve warriors of all different sexes, races, and ages practice the motions of fighting. The team began with placing their right fist, thumbs facing downwards and fingers out towards the enemy while the left arm extended far to the side with the palm open. This was the basic fighting stance of the Time Elite. From there, the group mimed the hand motions for the powerful energy blast "Galick Gun".

"I cannot send you, I'm sorry. It would just be too dangerous for you to interfere in this," said Supreme Kai of Time, her expression turning sour as she knew Trunks would not be receptive to that news. While it was humid today, Toki-Toki City was known for its consistent pleasant breezes. She watched the trees shudder and share leaves as the breeze moved her pink hair gently. Trunks was still silent, but she could feel his energy stirring internally. The Time Elite continued their practice. While their individual powers may not have rivaled Trunks, the beauty of the group was their effectiveness through teamwork. The success of the group was dependent on an effort from everyone, while failure was the result of bad cooperation. Each member wore identical armor with Time-Sama insignia on the chest. Trunks had sourced the armor from the past himself, venturing back on a reconnaissance mission to study the Saiyan Elite from Planet Vegeta before it's destruction. While he was fairly certain that the Supreme Kai of Time knew what he was doing in private, she never asked Trunks about his reasoning. The overwhelming sense of guilt accompanied that decision, but he simply could not help himself but to travel into the past and see his father's homeworld. From afar, Trunks Briefs studied the Saiyan Elite in their times of training. It was on those trips to the past that he allocated armor and materials for his special operations team. The armor was vintage to the Saiyan Elite, with shoulder and hip pads extending past the primary thorax protection. If he were to try and explain his feelings to someone, he didn't think it would make sense. Trunks was from a time that had been forgotten. It was a failed timeline where the Earth faced oppressive destruction after oppressive destruction. It fell on him to correct the realities of other times to ensure they did not end up like his own. That was the cruel irony of his position in the Time Patrollers and within his own life. Trunks Briefs could go about saving every continuity that he could, but there was not a damn thing he could do about his own home. That was the source of the incredible guilt that ate at himself from deep within his stomach. While he lived in the safe time hub of Toki-Toki City, there were hundreds that huddled for shelter in the bombed buildings of the ruined world that he hailed from. He could only imagine what each and every one of those people would want to use time travel to see. Instead, he hoarded it for himself and selfishly watched his father practice the art of killing while still a young man. There in the Saiyan training arena, Trunks watched his father slaughter the disgusting imps known as Saibamen. Small abominations that were grown from the ground as anti-personnel weaponry for when the Saiyans invaded a planet. They resembled gremlins or trolls. They stood no chance against his father. None of the other warriors did either. Prince Vegeta reclined comfortably on that mountain top, using the stacked corpses of his enemies as a throne of violence. Dripping with the internals and green gel blood of the Saibamen, Vegeta tore through the living beings without any consideration except for the honing of his own abilities and the development of Saiyan carnage. Despite that, Trunks watched his father. Studied his father. Learned from his father. Loved his father. They shared so many things. The type of things that only blood could share. Exotic and long-stretching eyebrows, squinted eyes, and an olive complexion. Also a thirst for battle that was a deep-rooted and guttural sensation that hung over Trunks despite how much he wished for peace.

"It is just too dangerous to send you. I'm sorry about this," Time-Sama said, bringing Trunks back to reality.

"They're my parents. It is my responsibility to protect them," he added, turning to her while he clutched his sword fiercely.

"I understand that, but the discrepancy in time seems to be taking place before your parents have even started a relationship," she motioned towards him with open hands, suggesting that she is powerless to grant his wish. Trunks could feel his cheek spazming with pent up frustration. The thought that a deity, one great enough to control something like time itself, was powerless in this situation.

"I've gone back before my birth before. It was fine then, and it will be fine now. I promise," he commanded. The comment was not a a suggestion as the emotion of feeling like a prisoner trapped in Toki-Toki began to overwhelm him.

"And that is exactly why you are here with me. That was a serious Time Crime, and you could have caused a distortion large enough to sink an entire timeline. In addition to the fact that your meddling with continuity enabled that disgusting creation Cell to nearly destroy a world. Trunks Briefs, you are forbidden from interfering with these matters. If you went back in time to when Bulma and Vegeta had not even had you, that could jeopardize the very existence of the Trunks from that timeline," The Supreme Kai of Time was not asking either. The dainty God rest her hands on her slender hips and cocked her head to the side, inspecting his simply sighed in contempt before slinging his sword over his back like he had done a hundred times before. Glancing back at her, Time-Sama could only frown with a short shaking of her head. The young man from a desolate world dropped his shoulders and looked upwards. The god's pink hair swayed and fluttered as an immense power surged from Trunks. Before she could scold him further, the half-Saiyan took off into the sky. Hurtling through the rich blue yonder of Toki-Toki, Trunks could feel his eyes becoming hot.


End file.
